Another beautiful
morning, a repetition of yesterday, opens up to me. It is particularly
necessary that I procure sustenance wherewith life is prolonged, and will
change my head-quarters to a little nearer civilization. Can hear some one
chopping not a mile away. Here goes. Later.
— Found an old negro fixing up a dilapidated post and rail fence. Approached
him and enquired the time of day. (My own watch having run down.) He didn't
happen to have his gold watch with him, but reckoned it was nigh time for the
horn. Seemed scared at the apparition that appeared to him, and no wonder.
Forgave him on the spot. Thought it policy to tell him all about who and what I
was, and did so. Was very timid and afraid, but finally said he would divide
his dinner as soon as it should be sent to him, and for an hour I lay off a distance
of twenty rods or so, waiting for that dinner. It finally came, brought by the
same boy I saw go along yesterday. Boy sat down the pail and the old darkey
told him to scamper off home — which he did Then we had dinner of rice, cold
yams and fried bacon. It was a glorious repast, and I succeeded in getting
quite well acquainted with him. We are on the Bowden plantation and he belongs
to a family of that name. Is very fearful of helping me as his master is a
strong Secesh., and he says would whip him within an inch of his life if it was
known. Promise him not to be seen by any one and he has promised to get me
something more to eat after it gets dark. Later.
— After my noonday meal went back toward the low ground and waited for my
supper, which came half an hour ago and it is not yet dark. Had a good supper
of boiled seasoned turnips, corn bread and sour milk, the first milk I have had
in about a year. Begs me to go off in the morning, which I have promised to do.
says for me to go two or three miles on to another plantation owned by LeCleye,
where there are good negroes who will feed me. Thanked the old fellow for his
kindness says the war is about over and the Yanks expected to free them all
soon. It's getting pretty dark now, and I go to bed filled to overflowing; in
fact, most too much so.
SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p.
122-3
